When I can't find a logical explanation, however, I am perfectly willing to accept a paranormal one. Let's face it, I'm just a little quirky that way. Plus, if the guy I'm out with turns out to be a total dud, mentioning my personal history with the paranormal is usually enough to ensure they'll never call me again. It's a lot more sanitary than smoking, and if I find myself flailing, I can toss in the fact that my (seriously, non-existent) "spirit guide" sees us having at least five children and a huge church wedding. CHECK, PLEASE!
Sometimes though, it just comes up when I'm not looking for it. The guy could be perfectly nice, truly amazing even, and yet there it is. When it comes up, I present what I know logically, and pray that he isn't completely frightened of me, this cute, sensible girl who just happens to see dead people on rare occasions. What can I say, I believe in being honest.
That's exactly what happened last night. TechGuy was up from VA, visiting a friend in the hospital. Since it's a bit of a distance thing and this week is crazy enough, we decided to grab a drink in Fell's Point. The chosen place had the dubious distinction of being named, "Baltimore's best 'Dive Bar' in 2006," but at least it wasn't Max's. :)
While we were sitting there chatting, barely a few sips into our beers, the lights came blazing on. Slightly strange, but we just figured someone dropped a contact (not that you'd want one back if you dropped it on that floor). Then, when the bartender walked over from the other side of the bar, grabbed the remote that was right in front of us, shook her head, and fired, I started to think something else was up.
Before I realized quite what I was doing or remembered that I was with this awesome guy who I had no intention of scaring off, I opened my mouth: "Any other ways that light could have come on?"
"Nope, and you saw where I was, and where that remote was," she replied.
"What's his name?" I asked - still forgetting that TechGuy was getting an interesting first-time look into my secret life.
Over the next ten minutes or so, TechGuy and I got the full story on BOTH ghosts. One, a sailor shanghaied during the War of 1812 was a fun-loving prankster. The other, a life-long abuser who lived upstairs until he was murdered by his own son in the '80s, well, wasn't. We weren't positive which one we were dealing with, but when the lights came on a second time, and the AC kicked on, we knew we were dealing with something.
Now, I've seen enough episodes of Ghost Hunters to know that provoking a spirit can either be a really good idea or a spectacularly bad one. Either way, it tends to produce results. Since I was still showing no signs of scaring off TechGuy, I decided to go "all in."
"If you were a real man, you'd turn the fan on," I said to the light (now off since it was starting to annoy the other patrons who, trust me, needed all the low lights and beer goggles they could get). "Lights and fan. Come on, you wimp, show me what you've got."
And...Nothing. So much for "guaranteed results."
I still wasn't 100% on how TechGuy felt about this whole situation, but I got my answer soon enough. He was sitting on his chair with no one except me within easy reach. All of a sudden, he pitched forward a little.
"Did you do that?" he asked me.
"Um...no...."
"He's behind me then," TechGuy declared matter-of-factly. "My chair just got bumped."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Here, I thought, was a real man who was just as logical as me about this whole thing. Squee!!!
Apparently, someone else was anxious to prove that TechGuy wasn't the only "real man" in the room. As soon as I shared that thought with him (without the "Squee" of course), the light flared on. Again. And this time, the fan was spinning at top speed -- just like I had demanded.
The bartender showed us the remote, and we could very clearly see that NOTHING was actually turned on. I gingerly reached forward and hit the fan's speed button, anxious to see what would happen if I turned the not-on-now-speeding fan up. I did not, I assure you, touch any other button - much less the one that turned the lights off. But that's exactly what happened. I turned the fan up, and it and the lights turned off. Then, the AC turned back on.
After that, all was quiet. I tried to provoke once more by asking the guitarist (dive bar had one of those!) to sing "Son of a son of a sailor," but it turned out he didn't know it. Bummer. We left the bar shortly after. After all, TechGuy still had to get to the hospital, and I to the cleaning I had abandoned. Still the evening was, if you'll excuse the pun, enlightening.
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